


All Aboard The Westerberg!

by lightlysaltedapples



Series: The Tales of Sherwood Bay [1]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Multi, PIRATES WHOO, Pirate!Heathers, chandlers an angry captain, do what ye want cause a pirate is free, duke is a jealous and kinda scary first mate, i had to research boats fuck you, mac is a very good lookout, more tags to come, why arent there enough pirate aus, yar har, ye olDE PIRATE SPEAK, yo ho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightlysaltedapples/pseuds/lightlysaltedapples
Summary: yes its kinda rushed but ive been listening to sea shanties all day tf do u expect





	

**Author's Note:**

> yes its kinda rushed but ive been listening to sea shanties all day tf do u expect

"Captain! Looks like there's someone out there!" Mac called, ringing the little golden bell above her excitedly. When there was someone out in the dark sea, it either meant that a rejected seaman was going to join their crew, or Captain Chandler and First Mate Duke were about to throw someone to the sharks. Either was fine with her, though she could admit she much preferred the first one.

The captain looked up from where she had been talking with the gunners, squinting up at the crow's nest from the main deck. "Aye, well what are ye waiting fer?" She shouted back up, her voice harsh and unforgiving. But of course, Mac was used to that. Everyone was. "Get in the damn lifeboat and see if they're worth helpin'!"

"Yes, Cap'n!" Nodding, Mac hurried to the deck, the pocket knife grasped firmly in her hand. When she finished scurrying down the rope ladder, she gave Chandler a small salute and prepared to lower the little boat, which she'd nicknamed "The Baby Porche", after the rather large ship on which she lived and worked. The Porche was an enormous vessel, though it was reasonable, considering how many seamen traveled on it. Hearing the splash of the wood hitting the water, Mac hopped down yet another ladder, a task which she had gotten pretty good at over the years. Resting on the seat opposite her was a worn sword. One she hoped she wouldn't need.

After a few minutes of rowing away from the boat, Mac halted as she came upon what looked to be a dead body in a royal blue uniform. She squeaked, hopping back for a moment before she tentatively began to haul it out of the icy waters. She pulled the sword off the seat, placing it behind her. It became clear to her that she wouldn't need to use it. She placed the seemingly dead sailor on the seat, grabbing her wrist in the process. She waited for a moment, praying to hear a heartbeat. First Mate Duke would throw a fit if she found out that they'd stopped just to find a corpse. It was faint, but there. The soft and steady pulse. Mac breathed a sigh of relief as she started to paddle back to the Westerberg with the ancient oars that never seemed to fail.

 

* * *

Veronica wasn't really sure on what happened. One moment, she'd been swimming out into the cold sea to rescue Third Mate Martha, and the next, well...

"Ya think she's dead?"

"I bet she's got money all over Europe."

"I'm gonna rob her blind."

"Dibs if she's single!"

The sailor opened her eyes to this, staring blankly at the pack of scary looking people surrounding her. Many of them looked like they were ready to pounce, some of them even seemed to be tensed up just for this activity. She could tell she was on a boat, of course, but it definitely wasn't the HMS Westerberg. Doing her best to keep her voice steady, she sat up and began to ask questions of her own.

"Where is the captain of this vessel? What ship is this, and which country does She belong to?" Veronica asked, growing more confident as she spoke.

She was met with laughter. "Aye, she thinks the Porche belongs to a big ol' king in a fancy ol' castle!" One of the taller men spat, a wild grin on his face. "Ye must be dumb or confused, prob'ly both!" 

This again led to many laughs, that is, a shorter woman tapped the one who'd just spoken on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. The smirk faded as he nodded, gesturing for the others to move away as he did the same. The shorter one stayed, though, and waited as two others came. 

One wore a simple emerald jacket and torn up looking pants, along with an eyepatch that didn't look like it was just for show. The second was a bit taller, and she wore a long crimson jacket and a black cocked hat. Neither looked as friendly as the shorter one, who was wearing a worn off-white dress shirt. Nothing too fancy. It was far different than what Veronica was wearing. A damp, royal blue sailor's uniform with a golden pin on her right chest.

The tallest spoke first. "And who," In one motion, she drew a sword from a scabbard held against her waist, pointing it at Veronica's neck. "Are ye?" She finished as Veronica put her hands up instinctively.

"I mean no harm to your ship, I assure you." The contrast between their accents was harsh, her refined and perfected English sounding wrong to the others. "I just got lost, that is all, I swear."

The one in green hissed, inching closer as she did. "Ye didn't answer her question. Who in God's name are ye?" The shortest stood behind them, mouthing apologies to her silently.

"V-Veronica Sawyer. The pilot of the HMS Westerberg." She answered as honestly as she could. "Captained by General Flemings."

The small one in yellow shook her head quickly. 

"Aye?" The leader of them asked. "I see. I be Cap'n Chandler of the Porche. That be First Mate Duke." The captain growled, nodding to the other. "Now that we got introductions outta the way, why should we let ye live?" 

Veronica could feel the cool blade drawing nearer as she ran out of patience. Recalling her old lessons with the General, she came to a realization. The threats, saving her, the poor English, it all made sense. They were pirates. And if there was one thing she knew about pirates, it was how cruel they could be. So casually, she played along. "I-I am no longer loyal to the mother country, or any of Her rulers." An obvious lie, of course, but personally, she'd prefer to live with the guilt than to die a most painful death at the hands of these brutes. Captain Chandler didn't look convinced, and neither did Duke, but none of them said anything about it. 

"Aye, then. Mac!" Chandler looked back to the lookout as she called. "Show our new guest the lower decks." She commanded, and after getting a nod from Mac, she turned back to Veronica with a cold glare. "Start anythin, and yer dead, got it mate?"

Veronica nodded nervously, hurrying behind Mac as the two headed down the creaky steps leading to even more of the grouchy seamen.

"Welcome aboard the Porche, matey!" Mac said with a small clap of her hands. "Ram! Play something ye can dance to!" She called to a strong looking guy who'd been chatting with some other brutes.

"Aye!" He nodded, picking a dusty old violin off the ground and holding it to his chin. He ran the bow along it expertly as he began to play a quick song, one that would make anyone want to sing along. The man sitting next to him lifted a tambourine off his lap and started to tap along to the music. Soon enough, most of the crew was gleefully chanting the old melody.

"What do ye do with a drunken sailor early in the mornin!" Mac joined in, grabbing Veronica's arm and swinging her along to the music. The song was unfamiliar to the pilot, though she did her best to dance along.

"This doesn't sound like-" A sudden increase in the speed of the music threw her off a bit for a moment. "Like anything we sing in the Royal Navy." She finished.

Mac only laughed, pulling her along quicker. "Ye think we're gonna sing Opera for ye?" Veronica shrugged. Well, the music wasn't /that/ bad. Kind of nice once she got used to the poor timing and off-key singing.

"I suppose not!" Veronica chuckled, getting the hang of the dance now. Well, whatever came next, it definetley wasn't like the HMS Westerberg. Not in the least.

 

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i know i know we dont even see the HMS westerberg in this ik ik


End file.
